I don’t get to say the words out loud anymore but that doesn’t mean they still don’t carry the same weighty impact. Move forward, move back move to the side, it’s all the same.
She sent some words to me and asked me to put them to rhyme. Words about me she says but she wants more words, my words in her mouth. You had your own words and that’s what made you different from me, better and worse too. This other feels three shades to the left of pretentious and I am being a prig in my mind while I smile and say of course, I’d be happy to do that. I’d like nothing better. I am condescension. I am holier than thou. I am an asshole of epic proportions.